


Haven

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: Dalton Academy, Episode Related, Fire, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 03:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3513365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine goes to see what’s left of Dalton.</p><p>set within 6x10 (“The Rise and Fall of Sue Sylvester”), with absolutely no spoilers beyond</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haven

**Author's Note:**

> song lyrics by George and Ira Gershwin

Although Blaine had felt compelled to drive to Dalton specifically to see its destruction for himself after he and Kurt had stopped at McKinley, there’s a certain level of heart-shattering shock he isn’t prepared for when they get to the blocked-off driveway to the school and see the charred ruins of the building in person.

Getting out of the car, Blaine sucks in a shaky breath and walks slowly over to the barricade. He can barely wrap his head around what he’s seeing. Kurt’s hand finds his and holds it tightly between them as they stare together at the fire-blackened brick and missing roof, the charred woodwork, twisted wrought-iron, and collapsed walls.

It’s like something out of a nightmare, like something out of a horror movie. He _knew_ it had burned - his heart hasn’t been beating right since he got the call in the middle of a peaceful morning of window shopping with his new husband - but as much as he’s been devastated by the news, it’s that much worse when the proof is right before his eyes.

Dalton Academy has been utterly destroyed.

It’s _gone_. It’s really gone.

Blaine can barely breathe around the oppressive weight of grief on his chest, and he clings to Kurt’s hand like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.

This was his home. This was his safe haven when he needed it most in his life, more than once.

Dalton had taken him in when he was battered and scared and had given him a place where he could take center stage and not have to be afraid of being honest about himself with his peers. Dalton had taken him in again years later when he’d been depressed and lost and had given him a purpose and a whole new life when he’d thought he’d failed at everything important, from his education and career to the very basics of love.

Dalton had given him so much, had given him _Kurt_ , had given Kurt a place to be safe, too, and now - unthinkable as it is - it’s just gone.

“I can’t believe it,” Kurt says, his free hand coming up to rest on the top of one of the wooden sawhorses keeping them out, bright yellow caution tape strung from it. They could certainly get around it, but Blaine feels no need to try. This is close enough. There’s nothing to welcome him in the ruins.

Blaine remembers the first time he walked into Dalton, his new uniform blazer stiff and unfamiliar on his shoulders but feeling like armor he desperately needed. He remembers laughing with the Warblers at practice and at lunch, finding an accepting family he craved. He remembers running through the halls to beg the Warblers to help him propose to Kurt in the very same spot they’d met.

He remembers first catching sight of Kurt’s face on that staircase, so many years ago now, and not even being aware of how much it would change his life but _knowing_ it somehow.

“I know,” Blaine replies in a voice he tries to stop from cracking. He keeps trying to make sense of the skeleton of the building, trying to figure out where the staircase was, where the practice room had stood, where his favorite math classroom with the mullioned windows had been. It’s all such a jumble of brick and beams, of devastation and ash. He can’t pull the old Dalton out of it.

He shakes his head in despair and blinks his stinging eyes.

Dalton has been his lifeline in his darkest, hardest times, and now it’s just _gone_.

His chest feels hollowed out. His stomach churns with grief. He knows it’s a building, but it feels like a death.

Kurt strokes his thumb over the back of Blaine’s hand and says, “This is horrible. Even if I never really fit in here, I always felt safe here. How can it just be - ?” He waves a hand to illustrate its current state.

Blaine feels his face crumple, and he can’t stop it. “It was the first place I could be out and it didn’t matter to anyone. It was the first place I could be myself.” He can’t imagine what his life would have been like without everything the school gave him: friends, confidence, a stage to shine on, ultimately the love of his life. “There _needs_ to be a place for people to feel safe. There are kids who need it like you and I both did. Even if there aren’t any gay Warblers right now.”

“Well...” Kurt’s voice goes dry. “I’m pretty sure some of them are.”

Blaine turns to him and reminds him, “They say they aren’t.” They’ve all been very clear about it.

Kurt shrugs and pulls a face, clearly unconvinced. “It’s not my place to label.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Blaine says, getting back on track. He doesn’t want to argue about his Warblers; he just wants them to have a school to return to. “Despite how much has changed, the world still needs places like Dalton, places without bullying, without fear, where you can just be yourself.”

“As long as you wear a blazer,” Kurt adds.

“There’s nothing wrong with a blazer.”

Kurt pats his hand, and Blaine sighs and turns them away from the barricade and back toward the car. He doesn’t want to argue about that, either. Kurt may never have felt like he fit in at Dalton, but Blaine always loved the sense of confidence and community that wearing that blazer gave him. He loved that visible sign of being a part of something so important to him.

“They’ll rebuild the school,” Kurt says. “It’ll take time, but they have their endowment and insurance. The board of trustees and the alumni won’t let Dalton just disappear. They’ll rebuild it.”

Blaine doesn’t let himself glance back over his shoulder. In his memories, Dalton is strong and beautiful, a welcoming refuge of peace and camaraderie, not this charred husk of a school set off with caution tape. “It won’t be the same,” he says. “They can’t replace the murals, the woodwork.”

“Of course they can,” Kurt tells him. “They have plenty of money.”

“It won’t be _exactly_ the same,” Blaine says, every part of him aching with a sharp sense of loss. He stops by the back of the car. “Even if they used the exact same plans, it won’t be the same place. Not the Warblers’ coach’s office with all of its history, not the staircase where I met you, not the spot where you were standing when I first realized I was in love with you. It’s all gone.”

“I know.” Kurt’s voice is soft and reflective, and Blaine knows he’s aching, too. He shares so many of the same memories. He found his own safety at Dalton, even if he didn’t need it as much as Blaine did. He still was touched by the welcome of the Warblers, the tolerance of the school, and even the little bird he bonded with and lost while he was there.

Blaine looks up at Kurt with alarm. “Pavarotti’s grave! We buried him here. Should we dig him up and move him somewhere safe?”

Kurt puts his other hand over Blaine’s and pats it, concern for him written across his face. “Pavarotti is fine, Blaine. We buried him in the trees, not near the building. They won’t disturb him.”

Blaine makes himself take a steadying breath, and he turns his car keys over in his hand. “Okay,” he says. “You’re right. Okay.”

Still, there’s a thread of panic deep inside of him that wants to rise to the surface. Even apart from all of the memories, he’s out of a job with Dalton gone. Without a place to return to at NYADA like Kurt, he has no idea what he is going to do now. He has no career, no paycheck, no plans.

Dalton had saved him yet again this year; it had taken him in while he figured himself out. This was his home, the safe place he retreated to and found his feet, and it’s _gone_.

When he left Dalton for McKinley in high school, at least he’d been running _to_ something and had been willing to give up what Dalton had offered him for the promise of something more. This time, he’s lost it all for good, and he can’t go back.

There’s nowhere to go back to if he needs it again.

He looks back at the ruins of the school and feels that panic grow stronger, a hint of bile rising in his throat. He can’t ever go back.

It’s a completely overwhelming thought, and his eyes blur with tears yet again. The ground feels like it’s dropping out from beneath him. He has no idea how to catch himself. He has no idea what to do next. He can’t -

Blaine takes another breath, lifts his chin, and deliberately pushes his anxiety down.

“Blaine?” Kurt asks him, watching him carefully.

Blaine shakes his head and breathes like he’s learned to do.

He knows it’s easy for him to panic under the weight of sadness, but he tries to force himself to think reasonably instead of with his aching heart.

Just because he’s lost Dalton, he reminds himself that it doesn’t actually mean he’s lost everything.

He might have needed this refuge more than once in his life, but even without it he _does_ still have his feet under him. He isn’t back to where he started over the summer just because his job is gone. He’s learned a lot about himself over the past months. He’s learned how to trust himself, be himself. He’s grown. He’s married to Kurt now, too, which he knows doesn’t solve his problems but which still makes them easier to overcome.

His life might have been rocked by this disaster, but it isn’t _over_.

The ground is still there beneath his feet, shaken, maybe, but not gone.

He can’t help but be heartbroken as he looks at the burnt-out husk of a school. It’s gutting to his very core to see it as a jumble of ruins, but when he steps back and thinks about it, he realizes that _he_ is standing, even if Dalton is not.

He’ll figure out whatever needs to come next in his life, and even though it won’t be in those beloved, hallowed halls he won’t be doing it alone.

“I’ll be okay,” he tells Kurt hoarsely, and he will be. He isn’t right now, but he _knows_ he will be, and that certainty proves to him that he’s not in the same hopeless place he was when he came back to Lima this year.

As much as it had helped, Dalton hadn’t actually saved him. It had just been there for him when he saved himself.

Blaine squeezes Kurt’s hand and feels his back straighten. He’s devastated, but he’s relieved to realize that he’s not actually broken. If he fails again, he will pick himself up. 

A tiny, sad smile breaks through the pain in his heart as Kurt squeezes his hand back, full of love.

Blaine will always, always love Dalton, but maybe he doesn’t _need_ it anymore, not really.

Now he just needs to focus on finding a way to help the kids who still do.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt tells him softly, still watching his face. “I know how special Dalton was.”

Blaine nods, feeling tears spring into his eyes. He might not need Dalton, but he will miss it so deeply. “So many good things happened here,” he says.

“I know.” Kurt gives him a melancholy smile. “For us both, when we needed it the most. We were very lucky to have it.”

Blaine nods again and leans into Kurt, gratefully accepting the hug his husband offers him. Kurt’s arms are strong and steadying around him, and Blaine buries his face against his shoulder.

“I just can’t believe it’s gone,” he whispers, and Kurt strokes his back and holds him, a haven all of his own. Blaine is grateful beyond words he isn’t standing here alone.

“I know,” Kurt says again, just as quietly, just as filled with sadness, and somehow knowing that he isn’t alone in his feelings makes Blaine feel that much better, too.

They stand there entwined outside the remains of the school that changed their lives in so many ways, silently mourning, and then Kurt starts to sing softly beside Blaine’s ear.

His voice is light and pure, comforting and gentle, only for the two of them. “The way you hold your knife,” he sings. “The way we danced till three. The way you've changed my life. No, no, they can't take that away from me.”

Blaine’s throat is tight as he joins in the last line of the verse, his heart aching with sadness and love and filled to the brim with memories he will be forever grateful to have, “No, they can't take that away from me.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm spoiler-free to the very end. Please don't spoil me! Thanks!


End file.
